by Kira Barker
And then lunch was over, and I had him all to myself again.
We spent the rest of the day out, only to return quickly to change for the evening. We went to several art galleries and strolled through the city, ate hot dogs and pizza rather than going for what I presumed were his usual hangouts. We caught a show last-minute, but missed half of it because we spent the time making out like horny teenagers, only to continue where we’d left off once we were in our hotel suite again.
Sunday, we stayed in bed, burning through the room service breakfast menu instead of venturing downstairs, too cozy to care for anything else in the world. But we weren’t just screwing around—no, we spent even more time talking, laughing, and just enjoying each other’s company.
I told him a little of my childhood, how a girl from a blue-collar family got high aspirations of making a career and ended up as a high class escort instead. He told me about the various jobs he used to work before he landed the scholarship that led him into college and to consequently come up on Alison Moss’s radar. I had known before that she was his mentor, but hadn’t realized just how extraordinary she must have found that nineteen-year-old rascal who had still worked part-time in a donut shop so he could afford living on campus where commute times would be cut down to zero.
It was already late afternoon as I made a move to rise to get ready, but Darren drew me back onto the bed, hugging me close and refusing to let go. I tried pushing him away, then tickling him, but the only thing that seemed to work was wrapping myself around him and kissing him, and once I’d gotten there, I had no intention of stopping. We both lacked the energy for something more adventurous than just lying there, side be side, moving slowly against each other, touching, caressing, breathing each other’s air. I felt as if I lost myself in him and never wanted the moment to end.
But it did end, leaving me curled up against him but knowing that our time was almost over, the minutes ticking away until we had to return home to a world where society knew exactly where to place us.
For just a few moments, I entertained myself with the idea of how things could be different. Not necessarily in a get-pregnant, build-a-family kind of way, but just small moments. Waking up every day to his smile; feeling his strong body wrapped around me the last thing before I fell asleep; being there to listen to his woes and triumphs alike; supporting him; helping him; being there to love him.
With reluctance already seeping into my mind, that thought made my throat suddenly tight, and I had to blink away tears. I tried to just lay still, refusing to move or do more than breathe, but I must have made a sound, because he tightened his arms around me and hugged me close before he turned me over to face him.
I stared into his eyes, widening mine in the hopes that the silly tears would just go away, but from the look that crossed his face—sadness and pain—I could tell that it was impossible for me to hide anything from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice so low that I had to strain my ears to understand.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why are you crying?”
As if on command, the moisture spilled over, leaving hot tracks down my cheeks. I tried to turn as to hide them, but he stilled me, his soft finger brushed my face gently, wiping them away.
“I’m happy.”
“You’re crying because you’re happy?” he asked gently, a light note of chastisement in his voice.
“I’m not lying,” I protested. “I just wish things could always be like they are now.”
“And how are they?” he wanted to know.
“Easy. Comfortable,” I replied.
He mulled my words over.
“And they don’t have to be anything but that between us, ever,” he offered.
“But that’s not entirely up to us,” I pointed out. When he raised his brows, I sighed. “Didn’t you see how people looked at us? Just two fools in love, with not a care in the world?”
His lips curved up into a soft smile.
“Are we?”
“What, fools? Definitely.” I chuckled.
“That’s not what I meant,” he told me, leaning closer until I could feel his breath fan across my face. “Are we in love?”
I pressed my lips together, unable to look away from his imploring gaze, and let out my breath slowly.
“I am. I don’t want to be, because it terribly complicates things, but I am.”
“That makes two of us,” he murmured, then kissed me, long and slow and deep.
The tears stopped eventually, but instead of feeling like my chest was bursting with happiness, it was regret that kept churning in my stomach.
“Tell me what I can do to make you feel better again? Please?” he asked, his own smile winning, clearly impossible to be contained.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I wish it was that easy.”
“Isn’t it?” Darren asked. “If our feelings for each other are mutual, and neither of us is otherwise weighed down with responsibility, what’s stopping us?”
I sighed, hating that I had to explain this to him.
“But this is not just about us. You saw how people reacted at the country club. You know what Ray did. And the longer we’ll be together, the more incidents there will be. People are terrible gossips, and you’ll ruin your reputation just by associating with me.”
I wanted to say more, but his soft finger pressing against my lips prevented me from it.
“I don’t care about my reputation,” he admitted. “And it’s not as lily white as you seem to think, anyway. There are scores of people who already hate me for my morals, or lack thereof, and that won’t change whoever I associate with. And even if it were to negatively impact me if I stayed with you, I still wouldn’t give a shit.”
The curse word, if not the sentiment, finally forced a weak smile from me.
“But I care.”
“You shouldn’t,” he reprimanded gently. “I can take care of myself.”
“And what about me?”
“What about you?”
I looked at him frankly for a moment, wondering if he really was that ignorant.
“Do you think I like being the dirty whore everyone scorns? Do you think it was just fear that I would reflect badly on you that had my skin crawling at the country club?”
A hint of annoyance made a muscle in his cheek jump, as if he was similarly aggravated with my denseness as I was with his.
“Why does it bother you what others think of you? You are an intelligent, beautiful woman who, above all else, has grace, confidence, and dignity. If you ask me, they are jealous of you. That’s why they see you as a threat, and that’s why they shun you, not because you might have opened your legs for one of their husbands a time or twenty.”
I couldn’t say why, but him saying that kind of irked me. I tried not to let it show, but it was pretty much impossible with him being so close.
“Don’t like that what I say is true?” he taunted, not exactly aggressive, but with a hint of steel in his voice.
“I’m not a delusional nitwit, if that’s what you’re implying.”
He let out his breath slowly, as if to calm himself.
“And I wasn’t saying, nor implying, that you are. But if it bothers you so much what others think of you, why do you keep doing what you do?”
His words made me pause for a second, less to consider them or because they had surprised me, but because I was trying to see where this was going.
“Did you just tell me to quit my job?”
His arms around me loosened as I withdrew, and I immediately wanted to apologize and back down, but my now rigid spine wouldn’t let me. Sitting up, I grabbed for the sheets and wound them around my upper body, then slid off the bed, aiming for the bathroom.
Before I’d managed to round the bed, he’d stepped in my way, catching my upper arms in a strong grip. I glared at him, willing him silently to let go, but if anything, his grip tightened.
“Do I like
the idea that, day by day, you give your body to other men? No, I don’t like it one fucking bit. But I respect you too much to even pretend that I have a say in your life. But what I resent is the fact that you are either one of the most delusional people, which would be a deal breaker to me, or you keep lying to yourself, in which case I would implore you to just stop and see reason. It’s not me who has a problem with your job, it’s you. I don’t know why, but apparently you think that either you’re not right for me because you’re an escort, or that there’s something wrong with you and that’s why we shouldn’t be together, but, again, that’s you, not me. Never me.”
His voice had risen in volume during his speech until he was almost shouting at the end. There was something close to panic in his gaze.
Was he afraid that I’d just walk away from him now? I couldn’t think of any other reason for his reaction.
Drawing a shaky breath, I reached up to touch his face gently, the motion making his fingers slip from my arms again.
“No, I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with me, but others will always find faults.”
“Is it not enough that to me you are perfect? Just as you are?”
Tears burned in my eyes again, but this time I managed to blink them away, because finally, that sensation of otherworldly joy broke free, taking all my doubts and fears with them. Stepping up to him, I kissed him deeply, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“It is enough. Oh, it is enough!”
His lips came back down on mine just as his arms held me close, and that was the last thing we said for a while.
And as we showered, then packed our bags and got ready to go home, I couldn’t stomp out that flame of hope that burned brightly inside of me now. Maybe we were insane to even consider this, maybe our love for each other would blow up in our faces, but right now I didn’t see a single reason why we should deny our feelings for each other, and not act on them—society, Ray, Brigitte, all of them be damned.
Chapter 16
For the first time in my life, sleeping in my own bed felt strange. I tossed and turned the entire night, and come morning, I felt under the weather. Peeking with bleary eyes at my schedule, I realized that I had to get up soon because I had an appointment before noon. I was half of a mind to call in sick and reschedule, but my talk with Brigitte left me wary of doing just that. I was sure that she knew where and how I had spent my weekend, and if I just flunked out on a client today, she’d have my ass for it. Considering that said part of my anatomy was still hyperaware of what might happen to it, my conviction not to give her any reason to go hard on me was strengthened.
It was another appointment with the judge, only this time he had requested a different scenario. Like most of my clients, he wasn’t exactly struck with imagination and liked to stick to a few variants of the same old themes. It was my job to find out quickly what pleased him the most, then provide that to his utmost satisfaction.
Normally, I felt a certain tingling excitement as I got ready for a client, but not this morning. I showered and applied my makeup, then dithered a moment over what clothes to choose. The job required something toned down and demure, but I’d rather have worn a tight, brightly colored dress that accentuated my curves than the bland sundress I went with instead. Cotton underwear, flats instead of heels, and a purse I’d picked up at a dollar store once.
I told myself that my saving grace was that Darren wouldn’t see me like that, and left just in time to make my appointment.
Looking only a tad more fashionable than the cleaning staff had it’s advantages. It brought me to the judge’s door without anyone taking notice of me. There I paused, applied another layer of lip gloss to make at least something in my face stand out, straightened my clothes one last time, and knocked.
I’d done this what felt like well over a hundred times, but it grated on my nerves when he made me wait before he let me in. That was followed by the customary reading of my transgressions—today I was a young woman caught shoplifting, and he was the lenient judge who let himself be persuaded by her sweet smile and innocent eyes, and only asked a small favor in return—a never-ending tirade that almost bored me to death. I did my best to appear shy and intimidated as I pleaded for his mercy, but it was incredibly hard not to start laughing. I normally had no issues with following such easy scripts, and far be it from me to judge my clients for the scenarios they wanted to act out, but there was only so much I could do today.
Eventually, he relented and let me get down to business. While I sucked him off, I went through my week’s schedule in my head three times, coming up with seven other appointments I didn’t exactly look forward to. Then it was up on the table, legs in the air, and more pleading as he slapped my ass a few times, to “make sure I wouldn’t do such a horrid thing again.” That did nothing for me, and although he wasn’t exactly hung like a horse, it wasn’t a hundred percent comfortable when he entered me, thanks to my less-than-aroused state.
Ten pumps and he was done, and I got to say the rest of my lines and was finally delivered from my ordeal. I could tell that he wasn’t ecstatic with my performance but he’d gotten his kick out of it, promising to call again as soon as he had need of me once more.
I left the building ten minutes later, feeling kind of dirty.
Things went a little better with my other client, but only marginally. There was a little more sass and actual acting required as he “picked me up” at the bar we’d agreed to meet in, and while the seedy, rundown hotel room he’d requested didn’t exactly turn me into a wanton slut, being in a position of at least equal footing helped get my body going, if not my mind. Likely not a regular-to-be, I noted to myself as I saw him check his phone once we were done, a guilty look on his face.
The realization that somewhere out there was likely the woman he loved, who I’d helped him cheat on, suddenly left a cold, hard knot sitting in my stomach. I still accepted his money with a smile and wished him a nice evening, but doubted that either of us would have one.
Once home, I turned the shower on high and stood under the scalding spray until I resembled a lobster, but not even that helped me feel clean. Sitting down with my dinner, I stared at the three phones on my table—one for my clients, one personal, one for Brigitte—and wondered how long I still wanted to keep this up.
Opening my calendar, I looked over my schedule for the week, then picked up the client phone and rang the next two, telling them that I would have to reschedule. That, at least, left my schedule clear until tomorrow night, and after that, I didn’t know yet.
As expected, Brigitte called not ten minutes later when at least one, if not both, of my would-be johns tattled on me. I stared at the display, then put the phone back down and let it go to voice mail. Let her make of that what she wished. I wasn’t ready to deal with this tonight.
From the terrace, I saw the lights were on next door, and after hesitating for a moment, I grabbed my tablet and went to Adam’s door. He looked surprised that I knocked rather than texted him to let me in, and I could tell from the way he hesitated that things between us hadn’t reset to normal after last Friday. Maybe I should have taken a little more time dealing with him, but I’d been so surprised to have Darren at my doorstep that Adam had been marked down on my list of priorities.
“Thanks for letting me in,” I remarked, not entirely without mirth.
“Unless the space is crawling with suits, I usually do,” he replied, offering a small smile that made me feel better immediately.
“Not sure I’d want to come over then, anyway,” I joked. He already eyed the tablet in my hand, so I just handed it over. “It’s been kind of buggy of late, can you maybe take a look at it? It’s probably just something that takes you two seconds, but, you know me.”
“Sure thing. Why don’t you make coffee while I work my magic?”
I agreed and went to his kitchen, grabbing two mugs after switching on the coffee maker. It was not as fancy as mine but did the job, and five minu
tes later I joined him on the couch. I was surprised to see him frown, then scowl at the piece of electronic crap, and he accepted the mug without looking up.
“Do you mind if I keep this for a day or two? I have to run diagnostics on it, maybe even open it up and check the hardware. It’s not a virus or some routine malfunction. This might actually be a challenge. Did you do anything out of the ordinary?”
I shook my head, feeling just a tad insecure.
“Only what I always do, which isn’t different from what everyone else does. Checked my emails, watched some porn, streamed a few videos. Did I actually manage to break it for good?”
He gave a noncommittal grunt but put the tablet away after a longing glance at it.
“Don’t think so, but I’ll let you know.” He accepted the coffee mug from me and studied its contents for a moment, and it took me that long to realize that he was stalling.
“Something else wrong besides my uncanny ability to bewitch electronic gimmicks?”
Adam shrugged but avoided my gaze.
“You tell me. How was your weekend with Hunter?”
Ah, right. I had kind of hoped to avoid that conversation as he hadn’t gotten in my face right from the start, but no such luck, apparently.
“Nice.”
“Just nice, huh?” he offered, his voice coming out weird.
“You know that I generally don’t fuck and tell.”
He sent me a sardonic look.
“Because that’s obviously what you were doing. Just fucking him.”